Homie does not just meet expectations. It shatters them. Smith is at their absolute best, technically and narratively, throughout their third collection, experimenting with form and turning convention on its head.”—The Poetry Question

“Profoundly moving. . . . Smith writes with both power and precision, and their poetic forms are as diverse as their topics. . . . Their personal style mixes modern slang with gorgeous imagery, resulting in verse as colorful and fanciful as Pablo Neruda but also savvy, down-to-earth, close to the heart. . . . [Homie] is filled with passion and humanity and demonstrates why Smith has been called one of the best poets of their generation.”—Shelf Awareness

“An electrifying, unabashedly queer ode to friendship and community. . . . Smith is a visionary polyglot with a fearless voice.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review

“This book reads as gospel, as righteous text that carves a religion out of friendship. . . . Blessed be Danez Smith, for allowing us that closeness. . . . Smith holds genius in them, and we are lucky that they choose to share it with us so abundantly.”—Fatimah Asghar

“Oh, Nezzy. The world doesn’t deserve this book—this fierce abundance, this indomitable tender—but we need it, desperately. Danez Smith has always been the most talented voice of our generation, but it’s here, in their third collection, that their virtuosic abilities are matched by the ambitiousness of their heart. Here, they’ve built a table big enough to hold all of it: the small shames that accompany grief, the ecstasy of chosen kinship, ‘your people, my people, all that has happened / to us.’ Homie is a book that takes to heart what Che Guevara said, ‘At the risk of sounding ridiculous, let me say that the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love.’ That Danez is willing to take this risk is one of the great fortunes of my life.”—Franny Choi

“Homie is how we survive—in verse. . . . For Danez, friendship is a forest ripe with foliage and possibility. . . . They offer us poems of seed and breath, charging us to reimagine the world as inhabitable and safe in this skin and these bodies beckoning us back to dirt.”—Tish Jones